


Dawn and the Breaking

by bloodsongs



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Angst, Drabble, M/M, Merlin your utter devotion for your king is showing, future!fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-08
Updated: 2012-08-08
Packaged: 2017-11-11 17:37:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 322
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/481116
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bloodsongs/pseuds/bloodsongs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Merlin’s heart aches, love searing through him like a brand. He would die for this man, his king, his Arthur - keep him safe in the folds of his magic, level entire fields for him in pillars of fire. Merlin would do anything to protect Arthur, whatever the cost.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dawn and the Breaking

**Author's Note:**

  * For [starling](https://archiveofourown.org/users/starling/gifts).



He’s turning to Arthur as they laugh with the knights, feeling the rush of battle singing in their veins. Arthur is impossibly beautiful in his armour, regal and infuriating and fierce and a little bit wonderful as he thrusts his sword upwards, roaring for them to advance.  
  
Merlin’s heart aches, love searing through him like a brand. He would die for this man, his king, his Arthur - keep him safe in the folds of his magic, level entire fields for him in pillars of fire. Merlin would do anything to protect Arthur, whatever the cost.  
  
Arthur calls him, leads his steed over, eyes flashing darkest blue. Merlin smiles at him, his own robes billowing in the wind, sees his own resignation reflected in Arthur’s face. The hours are fleeting, the sky is dying, and death is but a moment away; he pulls Arthur close by his cape, and embraces him for the last time, lips brushing a little against Arthur's cheek, catching against the rough burn of Arthur's stubble. 

“ Live for me,” Merlin breathes, a little desperately, voice almost choking. “I am your sword, your weapon, your warlock. I will fight to my dying breath for you, but - sire, you  _have_  to live.”

His grip is still tight on Arthur’s red folds when Arthur slides a thumb over his knuckles, deathly white against the bright colour. “You know I never listen to you, Merlin,” Arthur says, eyes crinkling, mouth stretching into that toothy grin that is so familiar, so beloved. “Some things won't ever change. But this, _this_... ” Arthur pauses, a little dramatic and just this side of pompous, and Merlin resists the urge to shove him off his horse, royal dignity and all that be damned. “I will try to obey.”  
  
Arthur turns his stallion around, his back straight and proud, every bit a king.  Merlin nearly misses Arthur’s next words, quiet and reverent:

“I’ll come back to you, Merlin.”


End file.
